


Finders Keepers, but who found him first?

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Friendship, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, Jon Arryn Lives, M/M, Magic, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Skyrim Civil War, Post-Skyrim Main Quest, R Plus L Equals J, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:08:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26727970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Disclaimer: I dont own either ASoIaF or Elder Scrolls since im not George R.R Martin or BethesdaAfter the arrival of a group of mysterious foreigners in King's Landing Robb Stark somehow ends up on ship bound for a land never heard of before but he can't make sense of how this ended up with him being roped into this trip that could easily be leading to his death. Oh well, like Theon said it will be an exciting death if nothing else elseMeanwhile Jon Snow the Dragonborn continues the daily routine he's fallen into now that most of the world-ending threats had been dealt with, and sadly he cannot help but guiltily miss some parts of the hectic and confusing times from the start of his journey.A strange series of events will however bring these two long lost brothers together once more and only the Gods know what that will lead to.My first story so the characters will probably be ooc and sorry in advanceIf you read it enjoythe characters are probably ooc so i apologize beforehand
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Elia Martell/Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Jon Arryn/Lysa Tully Arryn, Jon Snow & Robb Stark, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Renly Baratheon/Loras Tyrell, Robert Baratheon/Cersei Lannister
Comments: 16
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Dovahkiin Spreads His Wings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16618898) by [VixenRose1996](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VixenRose1996/pseuds/VixenRose1996). 



> This is my first story so there will be errors in grammar and probably the story that I’ll miss and have to fix after posting 
> 
> My first language isn’t English either so if I anything wrong then please point them out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dont know if i'll continue but i really hope I do 
> 
> Edit: I’ll be editing these myself so I’ll be grateful for any mistakes you can point out

Robb I - Aboard the Sunbearer

This entire situation was highly unusual, as were the circumstances that had led up to it. Apparently some strange people from a faraway land had arrived in King’s Landing, bearing greetings and the news of an entire continent not known about in either Westeros or Essos, and somewhere along the process of selecting representatives to send to this new land, after libraries across all the kingdoms were scoured to try and verify that this was not some hoax, Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy were somehow made part of the group to be sent. Honestly two heirs of great houses sent off on what could easily be a journey to certain death, it didn’t make any sense! Not to mention that Theon is technically his father's hostage! Which made even less sense since the entire point of him being one is to keep his father in line, which he can’t be used for if he wasn’t in Winterfell and certainly not thousands of leagues from Westeros’s closest shore. 

Robb reckoned he wouldn’t be as confused about all of this if he’d just listened better when his father explained all of this, but it wasn’t his fault! He was rightfully shocked and confused as to why he, the heir of the North, was among those chosen for this journey. This sort of thing just wasn’t normal, you don’t send heirs or Lords on these types of things and certainly not _Princes_!

Oh yes! Because Robb and Theon weren’t enough! Excluding them, also on this journey was Oberyn Martell, y’know the _Red Viper_ , the man infamous for his poisons and tendency for putting them on his blades and in his enemies, and he wasn’t alone either, accompanying him was three of the man's daughters and his paramour, but it hadn't been so bad since they were on different ships until an outbreak of bed lice occured on in his ship ending in the burning of all of his sheets, pillows and furs, because somehow it seemed to have only affected him! He also had to spend a not insignificant amount of time checking up on and taking care of Greywind who had clearly not found his sea legs yet, and the amount of times he had spewed out his dinner was making Robb regret insisting on bringing the poor wolf along. The Martell Prince then generously offered to house him on one of the dornish vessels which turned out to be the same one he and his family were on and before he could decline Theon, the bloody arse that he is, accepted for him and he was too polite to try and decline, to make matters worse Theon decided to tag along citing that he didn’t want to risk the same thing happening to him. Lies, Robb knew, he just wanted a chance to enjoy the company of the _Dornish_. 

But the worst part of sharing a ship with the dornish wasn’t the worry and stress he felt every time he ate or drank something but the endless offers and hints of private company! From nearly all of them, including the _Prince_! He suspected they enjoyed watching him squirm. How ashamed would his mother be if she knew how tempting some of the offers were? And Theon didn’t help him since he saw nothing wrong with it and kept whining about the fact the offers weren’t directed at him, not for lack of trying mind you. Luckily it actually seemed as if Theon had calmed down with his depraved japes and boasting of his prowess when he realized that they were on the open sea and was soon asking (pestering) the ship's captain for lessons, which gave Robb some time alone at least. This gave him time to try and make sense of all this but the only thing he succeeded in was nearly bringing himself to tears from how his head spun from his attempts at understanding how the discovery of a new land led to him being tormented by snakes on ship. 

Other notable people with them on this journey was some Lannister he hadn’t learned the name of with three ships of his own flying the red and gold of his house, three other ships that flew the crowned stag of the Royal family carrying Lord Renly Baratheon if he remembered correctly, though one of those ships also flew a strange banner he didn’t know of a black ship adorned by a white onion of all things, he guessed it was probably some house sworn to the Stags of either Dragonstone or the Stormlands since he couldn’t think of any Crownlands house with a banner like that, unless they were a new house which he supposed wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility. 

Excluding the two ships that flew the grey wolf of House Stark and the merman of House Manderly and the others there were three more, two of them displayed the grape sigil of House Redwyne and rose of the Tyrells whilst the last one carried the silver trout of his mother's house along with his uncle Edmure, not that he remembered the man beyond a few moments from when he visited Winterfell when Robb was younger. All in all their group consisted of fourteen ships, which in Robb’s opinion seemed a bit much but what did he know, this was afterall his first time on a ship. 

While he did wish to tear out his own hair in frustration sometimes he hasn’t spent the entire time like that, he was after all still young and couldn’t deny the thrill and excitement he felt at the idea of going to an entirely new continent and the only one thing that could have made this better would have been his closest and not-so secret favorite brother with him, the thought of his dark haired sibling filled him with regret and darkened his mood. 

Deciding he wouldn’t be good company for anyone like this he pushed himself upright from where he had been leaning on the ship's railing and retired to his rooms aboard the dornish vessel, seeking comfort in his furry grey companion and sleep soon claimed him bringing forth dreams of childish laughter and near-forgotten hopes and dreams whispered in the night between two young children.

*******  
Dovahkiin I - Inside a nordic tomb

Blood splashed against his face as he slipped his blade through the ribs and pierced the heart of one of the undead creatures that had attacked him before ripping it out and quickly turning to meet the sword from another one with his own. 

Turning his gaze away from the snarling, red-eyed creature currently trying to overpower him he saw a vampire he’d knocked off the circular platform earlier when they’d ambushed him, the redguard, drenched from the shallow water below them, seemed to have lost one of her scimitars when she got pushed off and was currently scrambling up to the platforms edge. 

Knowing he had to deal with the one in front of him quickly he felt the familiar build up of warmth and energy in his chest before releasing it with the three words he’d become most familiar with in his time in this land, the Shout slammed into the wide eyed vampire and sent him flying towards one of the rooms walls where the force of the push snapped his head back with a sickening crunch, the man fell to the water covered ground below with several chunks of the wall following, burying the now truly deceased undeads body underneath. 

Turning his attention to the redguard who had decided to stay back and observe him instead of rushing forwards with reckless abandon like she and the other, now dead, vampires had done at first, apparently having learnt from the past mistakes of herself and her fellows. He found himself copying the woman's movements which put them in a tense standoff where neither wished to strike first. In the end it was the redguard who broke the stalemate when she lunged forward with inhuman speed to slash at his face, he quickly ducked under the wild swing to avoid the blow and with obviously well-practiced movements began a series of quick thrusts and slashes forcing his opponent to devote all her focus on blocking or avoiding his attacks and putting her on the back foot as his strikes pushed her from his side to the edge of the platform. 

The fight came to an end when he went for a one-handed overhead blow forcing her to bring her curved scimitar up to stop it from cleaving her head in two and for the second time that day he was in a struggle to overpower one of his vampire attackers. The difference now being that he was the one who with the upper hand and that this time one of his hands were free, a fact he used to draw the dragonbone dagger on his belt and plunge it into the vampire's belly, the woman gave out a gasp and her arms faltered which gave him the opportunity to shove her blade aside and slash his own sword at her throat causing a river of blood to seep down and give the front of her already wet leather armor a coat of red paint.

As the last of his ambushers fell dead to the ground Jon closed his eyes and took a deep breath before cleaning the blood off his sword on the cloak of one of the corpses that hadn’t fallen off into the water. 

“You’re getting sloppy Dovahkiin.” A voice suddenly stated from across the room. Turning his head so fast his curly hair flew in the air he found a figure leaning against one of the room's wooden pillars, glowing eyes peered at him from under the dark hood. Relaxing as he realized who it was he replied in a slightly annoyed tone. 

“Well I’d like to see you be at your best when somehow clearing out a nest of feral bloodsuckers ends up being the most relaxing activity you’ve had all week.” The unimpressed look on her face showed just what she thought of his argument and with a huff he sheathed his sword and dagger before taking a running start to cross the collapsed bridge connecting the platform he’d been standing on and the open room carved into the wall where his friend stood. “Don’t look at me like that, not all of us can enjoy those headache inducing courtly intrigues that you seem to thrive in, my _lady_.” He put a mocking emphasis on the last words in the hopes of drawing some kind of reaction from her but she simply stared at before replying.

“Speaking of, we should get back before they start worrying the dragonborn has died,” her cold voice took on a hard to detect warmth and her lips twitched upwards in an almost unnoticeable way as she added “after all we certainly wouldn’t want to worry the fine men and women of the queens noble court now would we, my _thane_?”

He gave her glare before replying with only grunt and then turning to walk away towards the tomb's exit. Oh how he would forever regret letting himself get dragged into this game of lies and hidden intentions, but at least he had a warm bed and a nice cup of spiced wine waiting for him at the end of the day so he supposed it wasn’t all bad. Mmmh… how sweet the thought of his warm bed was right now and how he wished he could ignore his duties and simply collapse in it under its many covers and furs.

Thoughts of his home in the city brought unbidden memories of his childhood home and he ignored the tugging at his heartstrings at the thought of the family he’d left there. The past was done and all he could do was plan for the future and make the most of the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed and i apologize for my attempt at a fight scene


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into our hero's early journey and some advice for punishing your pyromaniac direwolf.
> 
> Also a look inside the Hand of the King's mind and the first look at one of the mysterious Tamrielic visitors in King's Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ill admit i got carried away with the ghost part but it stays because i like it
> 
> sorry if i portray any characters weirdly
> 
> also I forgot to mention this fic is inspired by the great "A Dovahkiin Spreads His Wings" by VixenRose1996 
> 
> Heres a link https://archiveofourown.org/works/16618898/chapters/38955812
> 
> also please help me correct any mistakes now on with the story

Dovahkiin II

_A deafening roar echoed across the now burning town, smoke rose like great pillars from the massive fires now spread across Helgen and the heat from the flames distorted much of his surroundings. His bare-feet ached from when he’d jumped from the tower into one of the buildings and his attempts at drawing in breaths filled his lungs with more smoke than air left his throat sore from coughing._

_“Ralof! You damned traitor! Out of my way!” The brown-haired imperial who’d he’d followed until now had suddenly stopped and his sword was pointed at one of the stormcloaks who had been on that wagon with him, Ralof was his name if Jon remembered correctly, and the stormcloak had gotten his hands on an axe and had raised it in preparation for the confrontation he clearly thought was unavoidable._

_“We’re escaping Hadvar. You’re not stopping us this time.”_

_“Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde.” In a move that seemed to surprise both Jon and the blond man, the imperial soldier sheathed his sword and, with a last scathing look thrown at the other nord, made his way towards one of the two entrances to the keep._

_Over the screams and yells of men and women and the roars from the dragon Jon heard the other man, Ralof scream at him, “You! Come on, into the keep!” Just as the imperial, who he now remembered had been called Hadvar by one of the other soldiers, also called out to him, “Come on! We need to get inside!”_

_Jon felt torn as he tried to decide who to follow but before he could take another step he felt an intense heat envelop him and a heavy weight settled on his chest pinning him down and preventing him from drawing any more smoke-filled breaths into his body, he cried out in alarm thinking the dragon unleashed his fiery breath upon him._

He awoke with a gasp desperately drawing in huge gulps of air into his lungs, his sheets stuck to his sweat-drenched body and his eyes wildly searched around the room for signs of flames and black-scaled world-eaters. After a few moments he finally took notice of the white-furred body curled up around him and with an embarrassed look halted his wild search for long-dead monsters in the dark as he realized what exactly the intense heat that had surrounded him in his dream was.

“Alright boy that’s enough, you know you can’t sleep in the bed with me anymore,” a pitiful whine answered him from somewhere in the pile of snow-white limbs pinning him on his bed, “Ghost, I’m going to give you five seconds to get down before I decide to let the children play with their favorite puppy in the market square again.” The threat of being subjected once more to the tender mercies of Solitude's youth spurred the giant wolf to scramble off the bed with a series of high-pitched yelps, no doubt the effectiveness of his threat was enhanced by the fresh memories of what the poor wolf had been subjected to when Jon had left him in the care of his _good friends_ Tarrie and Endarie, the sisters who owned the clothes shop Radiant Raiment, when he went to clear out a vampire den with Serana. 

Ghost being left behind in the two sisters care had been a punishment after he had gotten it into his head to try and play fetch with a candlestick in the Blue Palace when Jon had been busy with his duties as Thane, resulting in a large fire spreading inside the Palace but thankfully no one was hurt beyond a few servants and nobles ending up with singed clothes and sooty faces. Later a furious investigation by the guards was started led by Bolgeir Bearclaw, who suspected the culprits to be stormcloak sympathisers, if not stormcloaks themselves, and so when they found the source of the fire to be an overgrown wolf cowering under a table in the kitchen with a gnawed on candlestick next to him. 

Jon had been sure he would burst into flames from the embarrassment, he could still see Erikur's smug face as he loudly proclaimed the direwolf a danger to the public and that he should be locked up, luckily since the damage wasn’t too great and no one was seriously hurt the only consequences Jon and Ghost faced was a fine to pay for the repairing and restoration of the damaged parts of the Palace along with a royal decree banning Ghost from ever entering the home of the High Queen again.

The incident had made Jon furious and Ghost had spent more than an entire month sleeping outside in the gardens of Proudspire manor as part of his punishment. Some time later when Serana came to him asking if he felt like helping her take care of a small group of feral vampires he’d used the opportunity to finish his wolfs punishment with leaving him behind in the hands of the two elven sisters, who had accepted his job offer only after doubling the pay and with a promise to try out some new additions to their collection, and even then with great reluctance and with visible disgust at the idea of taking care of what was in their opinion a dirty wild beast. 

But Jon had paid no mind to their thoughts on it, simply content in the knowledge that his pyromaniac of a dumb mutt would not enjoy the experience. He had turned out to be right as the sight that greeted him when he entered the market square after parting ways with his vampire friend outside the gates had him frozen in shock and then doubling over in laughter, nearly falling to the ground as tears formed in his eyes and he had to lean against a wall to keep himself upright.

Apparently the seamstresses had delegated the duty of watching the wolf during the day to some of the children that often ran around the city, and the young boys and girls had at some point decided that Ghost needed a more colorful look which had led to him ending up covered in light pink dusting with only his face, belly and three of his paws still showing some of his original coloring. A crown of flowers had also been placed upon his head held in place by some thin string and a scarf of multiple colorful blots of fabric ranging from a pleasant dark blue to an eye-hurting shade of bright yellow, through his tears he noted that the fabrics of the scarf were of a far too high quality to have just been found laying around by the children and the presence of Tarrie underneath her shop's sign confirmed where the cloth had come from.

It had taken weeks to rid his fur completely of pink and every now and then Jon thought he caught a glimpse of pink in the now mostly restored coat of white fur but whenever he got a closer look there was nothing there.

The poor animal was still terrified of the children.

Shaking his head, Jon began to get up from his now sweaty and fur covered bed, he went to the wardrobe and got out some of his simpler clothes since he was just going to wear them until he got in a bath to wash off the sweat from his skin. This simple outfit was a pair of well-worn boots, a loose wool shirt with laces below the neck that he didn’t bother tying and a pair of buckskin-colored breeches.

Some time later he was relaxing in the stone bath in the cellar of the Manor and as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the rolled up towel he’d put on the edge. Once he felt the tension seep out of his body and his muscles relax he waited a few more minutes before getting out to dry himself off, dress and otherwise prepare for another day in the court of Skyrim’s capital.

Feeling sentimental he choose a simple worn steel pin to hold his bear fur cloak up, lingering in front of the mirror he simply stared at it and thought of how long ago it had been since he’d put it on in his rooms in Winterfell the night he’d chosen to make his disappearance in order to make his own way in the world. 

He shook his head before heading outside, Jordis silently fell in behind him as he entered the streets of Solitude and while he could protect himself fine without her it was comforting to know that if trouble should start, he had someone firmly on his side.

‘Here we go again.’ He thought as he neared the palace gates and mentally prepared himself for another day of mind-numbing politics.

*******  
Jon Arryn I

He observed the man sitting opposite him in his solar in the tower of the hand as subtly as he could and once again noted the way his features seemed so…

So... 

Foreign?

Strange?

Unnerving?

Yes, unnerving was perhaps the best word to use for how he looked, now Jon Arryn wasn’t a man to normally judge people based on appearance their was just something about these visitors of theirs, their tale was almost to fantastical to be true but a few passages found written in old tomes had mentioned a continent that was neither Essos or Westeros and that combined with the maps and items these guests had brought with them had convinced most of the truth of their statements. 

The only other way to describe some of these travelers' features was inhuman… 

That was ridiculous of course since what else could they be and Jon knew that people differed greatly in looks depending on where one originated from.

“... -fuses me, Lord Hand,” realizing he’d been asked a question Jon scrambled to respond whilst also mentally cursing himself for his stupidity, maybe he really was losing his mind to age like everyone whispered behind his back.

“Forgive me my lord but it seems old age is finally catching up to me, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble I’d appreciate it if you could repeat your question?” Jon hoped the man would believe his excuse as he put on the most genuine smile he could, the man stared blank-faced at him for a moment before a small smile appeared on his face, “It is no trouble at all my lord Hand, I was simply confused of when it comes to some of your traditions, and was hoping you could educate me a bit, I wouldn't want to accidentally offend someone after all.” The man's smile was friendly but his sharp slanted green eyes told the falcon lord that his observations had not gone unnoticed.

“Of course, I would be happy to answer any questions you might have, as you said after all we wouldn’t want you to offend anyone on accident, now would we?” 

“Yes, of course,” the man's smile had widened but his eyes had narrowed and he suspected that just as Jon had studied him, the foreigner was now doing the same to him, “it was the issue of bastard names that confused me the most, it could be because I’m not as familiar with these lands as a native is but I’m quite intrigued by it actually.”

“Well, the basics are that most noble bastards are named after the region they are born in,” he noticed that the man had slightly leaned forwards as he began his explanation, “for example ones born in the North are called Snow and one from the Reach are called Flowers and so on and so forth.” 

As he continued answering questions he couldn’t help but note the way the man's eyes had widened at the mention of the northern most kingdom's name for bastards and made a note to try and figure out why later. 

That night his thoughts wandered to the people they had sent to this newly revealed land and questioned if it was indeed such a good idea to send so many important figures there, despite the foreigners assurances he was well aware that anything could happen on the open sea with no one around for miles.

The little sleep he got was troubled and he awoke feeling exhausted that morning, something that had become more and more of a frequent occurrence as of late. But he ignored it as he got up to prepare for his duties for the day.

The realm didn't run itself after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didnt really know how to write this part but I wanted to have something between chapter 1 and the next part which will come later either this weekend or next week
> 
> Anyway hope you enjoyed it


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The westorsi dock in Solitude and begin their journey to meet the Queen.
> 
> Jon Snow curses his forgetfulness but takes a second to appreciate that he was at least wearing something comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter but I didn't want to spend so much time worrying over it so im posting it now I guess

Robb II

The organized chaos aboard the Sun Bearer was echoed across all their ships as they prepared to dock and neared the harbor. Orders through the air flew from the mouths of the sailors as sails were raised and ropes tightened by the experienced hands of the ships crews and Robb spotted Theon among some of them, likely eager to help with the ship beyond walking around making ropes were properly tied and similar things as he had been doing since he finally got the ship's captain to relent and teach him about sailing.

As he watched Theon climb down the masts with some of the older sailors from his position on the upper deck he once more dismayed at the madness that seemed to have encompassed the world ever since his father told him that he was going to be one of the people to be sent on this mad journey. The Theon he knew would have clawed his eyes out before he practically begged anyone for anything, even if it was a lessons on sailing, something Robb knew Theon had secretly wanted for a long time but had been too afraid of being denied by his father, not that Theon ever explicitly told him so but he had know his friend for so long that he could tell that much without being told at least.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to dispel such thoughts before his head started hurting again, after a few seconds Robb opened his eyes again and turned his gaze towards the harbor and the city above it to try and see what awaited them on land.

The first thing he noticed about the city was its location, it had been built on a strangely formed mountain which resembled the shape of a bridge thanks to the fact that it seemed as if two mountains had bent whilst growing to connect above the mouth of the river in an arch, and through the arch formed by the mountain he could see the harbor which bustled with people who were no doubt rushing to prepare for the fourteen ships approaching. 

He turned his eyes to the city once more and over the walls surounding he the tops of several buildings along with several guard towers and if he squinted he could make out several ant-sized figures upon it, guards no doubt, and a few banners hanging from the wall flapping in the wind but he couldn’t make out what exactly they displayed.

“A grand sight, is it not, my lord?” He nearly jumped as a man suddenly appeared next to him and when he looked towards him he saw the smirk that had tormented him for so much of the journey, “Indeed it is, my prince, but from what I’ve heard and from what you’ve told I imagine it’s not as grand to you as it is to me,”

“Oh?” the man had lifted a sharp eyebrow at his statement, “And what makes you think that Lord Stark?” The Martell Prince made no effort to hide the enjoyment he felt at making Robb squirm by simply being in his presence.

“Well,” he began, desperately trying to keep his nerves from showing as he spoke and no doubt failing miserably, “I have heard of and you have told of your many travels and I imagine that you’ve seen many such sights in your days, my prince, and so it is obviously not as impressive to you as it is to someone like me who has barely left the North my entire life.” 

Oberyn Martell said nothing as he rested one of his arms on the wooden railing and turned his whole body towards Robb, the man's eyes swept over him as the Prince seemed to evaluate him with an intensity similar to how Robb imagined the mans venomous namesake would observe its prey.

Robbs body tensed as the man suddenly let out a loud laugh before pushing himself up from where he’d been leaning on the railing and putting his right arm around Robbs shoulders as he spoke again in his accented voice slightly different from his daughters and paramours ones, most likely thanks to his many years spent traveling and learning different languages, his lips now pulled up in a sharp smile,

“You are right Lord Stark, I have seen many great sight in my days, but let me tell you a secret,” the man leaned in even closer with his arm still around Robb until Robb thought he could probably make every individual hair in his mustache and beard, “the secret behind enjoying this life is letting yourself continue to be amazed, surprised and puzzled, confused and bewildered by our world, because if you can keep the wonderment so many credit only to children and ask yourself the questions they ask themselves such as how was it made, why was it built, when was it named and all such questions then every amazing thing you see, whether it’s the first or the hundreth you see, will seem just as grand and wonderful as all others.” 

The taller man then quickly removed his arm and gave a quick goodbye, citing a need to check that his family was ready for docking. Robb only distantly noted himself reciprocating the man's farewell, the man's words had struck something within him, something he thought he’d forgotten or repressed for long enough to forget, an old conversation between two children in a snowy forest the aftermath of a fierce snowball fight.

_”Why would wanna go there?” a young voice asked as snowflakes danced and twirled through the air as they fell towards the snow-covered ground, “it’s full of sand and slavers, and the sun will turn you into a melted pile of snow!”_

_The owner of the voice turned out to be a young fur-clad child currently laying in a snowdrift next to a bundle of furs topped of by a mop of dark curly hair, this bundle of fur turned out to be another child as a face suddenly appeared from where it had been buried in the furs, both children's faces were flushed red from the cold but the dark hair of the smaller one made his seem a deeper shade then his companion._

_”But it’s also full of legendary cities and buildings Robb!” The darker-haired childs exclamation was accompanied by two gloved hands waving excitedly in the air as the child stood up from his place in the snowpile, “ and imagine all the sights there are to see there, wouldn’t you want to see the Titan of Braavos or the-” he was cut off as the red-haired boy also stood up,_ _“Don’t forget the sellswords Jon! They’re men without honor and Essos is full of them, imagine what some of them would do if they got their hands on one of Ned Stark’s sons!”_

_“Then I’ll become a better fighter so they won’t get me,” a sad expression spread across the boy’s face as he continued, “and I’m not a Stark, they wouldn’t get much from me and they’d know that a bastard isn’t worth much.” The last words came out harsher than the rest and the excited expression on the boy’s face had disappeared, replaced by a mix of sadness and anger as his grey eyes glistened with unshed tears._

_The other boy said nothing as he stared at his friend and several moments passed before he responded. No words came from him as he simply approached his brother and tightly wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, and though he most likely felt the warm tears that was pressed against his cheek he didn’t comment on it._

_No words were uttered by either as they simply stood in each other's embrace. The moment was broken as a voice called out for them across the Godswood, they slowly broke apart and the grey-eyed dark-haired boy wiped his face clean of tears before they began to walk to the exit of the woods. No words were needed between either of them and their conversation would never be talked about by either of them again._

Robb was broken out of his reminiscing by the shouts of sailors as they passed under the strange mountain and neared the docks where he could make out several banners held by small figures, no doubt that was their welcoming party.

Taking a deep breath he pushed away all thoughts not related to the current happenings and made sure his fine clothing of grey and white was clean and wrinkle-free.

This was no time for dwelling on the past, this was after all an historical event, the first offical meeting of Westeros and this strange new land.

*******  
Dovahkiin III

His clothes' tight collar chafed against his neck as he stood to the left of Queen Elisif with Thane Firebeard taking her right side as her most trusted advisor within the courtyard of the Blue Palace.

He still didn’t know who exactly they were expecting but he guessed it was some royalty or nobility from one of the nearby provinces, most likely High Rock, and he cursed himself for choosing to travel to Whiterun the day before the matter of their visitors was discussed, he had stupidly completely forgotten about their arrival, and when he returned it would have been too embarrassing to ask who they were meeting since he was supposed to have learned this information before he left, but again he’d stupidly forgotten about that too.

The snowy-white saber cat fur on top of his black cloak held up by a pin of darkened steel shaped to the likeness of Solitudes wolf banner tickled the back of his neck. A small comfort was that at least the brown breeches, white shirt and black coat he was wearing felt comfortable against his skin and his current outfit was fitted and made of a silky and light material, unlike the finery he had worn during his first feast as a Thane of Whiterun which had been lent to him be Balgruuf's steward and as a result had been both too lose in some places and too tight in others.

The Queen herself had dressed in a long dark purple dress with golden embroidery in the form of thin swirls and spirals, a similar pattern decorated the fitted upper arms of the dress but they were slightly wider whilst towards the wide sleeves from her elbow and below it was devoid of any such patterns. A long golden chain necklace with a round amulet inscribed with small inscriptions hung from her neck over the front of the dress ending just over her stomach and sitting around her finger was the simple golden band she seemed to never be seen without.

Jon was just about to turn his attention to some of the other people in attendance when the horn signaling the nearing of their guests blew and all whispered conversation ended. Just as he began to hear the sound of the entourage he took a deep breath to prepare for another group of prideful old men and women, after all no matter where you came from nobility and their ways didn’t change that much.

How he couldn’t wait to get this over with so he could saddle his horse and pack his things so he could get in his way to Castle Volkihar for his much needed vacation.

*******  
Robb III

Their reception at the docks had been simple enough, with them being supplied with horses for the journey up to the city and as he passed through the gates he couldn’t help but note the clear signs of recent construction on the city, it had clearly been expanded and it’s streets were wide and clean.

The ruler of the land was the High Queen, and wasn’t that strange that it was a woman who ruled this place? He had been told they would meet her inside the courtyard of the Palace but as they neared it seemed like more of a castle then the descriptions of eastern palaces Maester Luwin had read to him about when he was younger.

Robb was at the moment riding alongside the northern part of the group behind the Baratheons, Lannisters and Martells, next to him was Dacey Mormont and Eddard Karstark whilst Theon rode a little behind. The two northerners were currently speculating about what sort of person this “Queen Elisif” would be. Robb himself had decided to simply wait until they met with the woman before painting any sort of picture of her in his mind.

One of their escorts pulled out a horn as they neared the gates of the palace and when he blew it they opened, they passed through towards the courtyard and Robb steeled himself for the coming meeting.

He was a Stark of Winterfell and no matter what happened here he would stay as cool as the material his family's ancestral sword was named after and as calm as the frozen lake his father had taken him fishing to once.

He could now make out a few lines of people with a crowned woman standing in the middle of the first row, he looked over his clothes one more time to make sure he was presentable before turning his attention to the two men who stood on either side of the Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading
> 
> I dont know when ch 4 will be out but it will at least be out this month 
> 
> probably
> 
> Edit: Thanks to acehollyleaf for correcting my mistakes in the comments


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon lays his eyes on a person he thought he'd never see again. 
> 
> Glimpses into the psyche of the young Dragonborn are given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet, yay!
> 
> I dont really have anyting to say so 
> 
> Enjoy!

Dovahkiin IV

As the foreign entourage passed under the inner gate to the courtyard led by several riders holding banners Jon felt his heart freeze and his body tense up. 

No…

It couldn’t be…

The banners flapped in the air, most prominently was a black stag on a yellow field and there was no doubt that it was the same one he’d been shown so long ago. Accompanying the stag was golden lions, spears and suns, golden roses, silver trouts and a number of others belonging to houses Jon couldn’t remember. The one that had that had Jon frozen however was none of those, it was the snarling wolf upon a field of white.

Trepidation filled him as the riders had all soon entered the yard along with several carriages bearing the same sigil as some of the banners. As he looked across the group he finally found himself staring at a person he had almost given up on ever seeing again, his hair was still the same color of red but his jaw was now covered in a light beard and his face had grown out of the childish fat that all children had.

He was forced back into reality by the foreigners approaching them with a black-haired, blue-eyed man who couldn’t be much older than Jon himself at the head.

“Queen Elisif it is an honor to meet you.” The black-haired man greeted with a flourishing bow, his black doublet had intricate golden embroidery that imitated vines creeping over him whilst his deep green cape gently fluttered around him from the swift movement of its wearer.

“And you must be Lord Renly Baratheon, I had received word that you would be the one to make the journey here and on behalf of Skyrim and her people I welcome you to our land I as Queen welcome you to my home,” The Queen answered with a nod and with a gesture of her hand two servants who’d been standing somewhere out of sight approached with a bowl and a plate respectively, “I also offer you and your companions guest right as I have heard such a thing might ease some of you worries, my lords.” 

Some time was spent in silence as the guests took part of the bread and salt and whilst they were doing so Jons mind raced at dizzing speeds, Elisif and everyone else had obviously known the visitors would be westori and Jon knew he was the one to explain to Elisif the importance of guest right in Westeros during some of the earlier days after the war and his time as a thane of Solitude.

“I thank you for your consideration Queen Elisif as I know that it will indeed help ease some of my companions worries,” Lord Renly had half turned to the rest of his group as he continued, “Also allow me to introduce my companions and fellow representatives from our home,”

“This is Garlan and Loras, sons of Mace of House Tyrell the ruler of the Reach and Warden of the South,” two brown haired men bowed as they were introduced and both sent a charming smile towards the Queen, “next is Prince Oberyn of House Martell, the brother of Doran Martell who rules Dorne and his family,” An olived skinned man inclined his head as three women of similar skin tone and dark hair and eyes as the Prince curtsied whilst one of the younger ones dressed in breeched copied the older man and only inclined her head, and Jon couldn’t help but notice the clear fact that at least three of the Dornish were armed with at least one dagger carefully hidden on their bodies except for the Prince himself who openly carried a sword at his waist,

“Kevan Lannister the brother of Tywin Lannister the Lord of the Westerlands and Warden of the West, his nephew Tyrion Lannister and his son Lancel,” a group of golden haired men bowed, and Jon was surprised to not have noticed the much shorter figure among the group, the red-haired man's appearance had shaken him deeply, “Edmure Tully the son of Hoster Tully and heir to the Riverlands,” Jon couldn’t quite make out how he felt at the presence of Catelyn Stark's family as the man bowed with a grin in his red and silver clothes, 

“and lastly Robb Stark,” Jon felt his breath hitch as young man took a step forward to present himself, “son and heir of Eddard Stark the Lord Paramount of the North, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, and with him is Theon Greyjoy the future Lord of the Iron Islands.” 

Jon greedily roamed his eyes over his now-grown brother and noted that aside from the beard and the more distinguished facial features he had grown broader and taller, making Jons own growth spurt mean nothing as he was now still taller than him, he was dressed in a white doublet with grey embroidered wolves decorated his collar, the sides of the doublet and his cuffs. He carried a longsword at his side and a charming smile was spread across his face in that familiar way that crinkled his eyes and made dimples appear around the corners of his mouth.

As more greetings were exchanged Jon prayed no one would recognize him, which was highly unlikely as he only really knew two people from the group and the rest hadn’t ever laid their eyes on him before from what he could remember.

The meeting came to a close as the guests were escorted into the Palace whilst servants rushed to take care of their horses and carriages and Jon found himself following the rest of Solitudes court to the throne room in a daze as he tried to think of how people from Westeros ended up here.

A feeling of foreboding filled him as he made up an excuse to retire to his home, he needed time to process all this and as the Queen gave him permission with a concerned look that he waved of with a tight smile he began to dread the days to come, nothing good would come of this, he could tell and the only question was how badly whatever was going to happen would be.

*******  
Robb IV

The soft mattress felt like heaven as he flopped down on it in a most unlordly manner. This place was so confusing, it was so far away from Westeros and this could likely be the first meeting between them, there were so many similarities but equally as many differences he’d seen in his very brief time in this land.

For example it seemed as if they both spoke the common tongue but sometimes he’d hear some completely alien phrase or word and sometimes he’d hear an accent so similar to his own northern one but even then it seemed slightly different. 

He lifted his head from the beds pillows to spare a glance at his direwolf companion resting on a pile of furs near the room's hearth before closing his eyes and letting his head flop back into the soft pillows.

They’d been told that since they’d arrived so late in the day the formal introduction would wait for tomorrow, which gave them a chance to get some rest in a bed that wasn’t constantly swaying like the ones from the ship had.

Rest sounded like a grand idea to Robb and after getting up to undress for bed he buried himself under the covers and let himself drift off with only a slight twinge of nervousness for the next day.

That night he dreamt of a wolf trapped in a translucent net struggling to free himself as faceless beings that surrounded it laughed, their joyous laughter grew deafing as the wolf seemingly gave up and laid in the net in defeat.

*******  
Dovahkiin V

After arriving at Proudspire Manor Jon had immediately had a meal made and the bath prepared so he could deal with today's surprises in a more relaxed setting and repressed any thought of the arrivals until he was neck deep in steaming hot water and had some good food in his belly.

Only now, in the comfort of his own home did he let panic consume his thought entirely.

How could this happen?! It was ridiculous, the odds of people from Westeros showing up in Tamriel were impossible or so he had thought at least. And for Robb to be among them was certainly some sadistic god’s idea of a joke.

He counted himself lucky that neither Robb, Theon or any of the guards and servants that had belonged to the northern party had recognized, it was unlikely considering they wouldn’t really be looking for a long gone runaway bastard among a foreign monarchs court and he had changed quite a bit from how he’d looked back then, obviously.

He dragged a wet hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, thinking about it he had also never worn his hair this short in his homeland. It wasn’t that short of course but it only reached a little past his ears now and he had it swept back most of the time which was far shorter then how it had ever been in the North.

His body had also changed in his time in Tamriel. There were scars from all manner of things along with a small rose tattoo on his neck from a certain Daedric Prince that now decorated his body. It was far more muscled now than the greenboy he had been, though he still had a leaner body shape than many other warriors. Whether that was through his position as dragonborn or from the multitude of magic he’d been exposed to, or if it was just how his body worked naturally, he wasn’t any weaker than those more solidly built. He was even in a lot of cases stronger than them, and even if he came across a stronger opponent his speed made up for it.

He spent the next hour soaking in the water and thinking of how much had changed since the day he’d packed as many of his things in a satchel along with all the coin he’d saved up over the years and stolen a horse from Winterfell's stables to go out in the world to try and find his place or if he didn’t have one carve one out for himself on his own. Also dominating his thought was concern over how the near future would play out.

 _Some time later_

After deciding he wouldn’t get any sleep that night Jon found himself sitting in a chair inside of a large room that seemed like nothing more than an ordinary trophy room for hunting trophies and displays of weapons and armor that cost more then some villages were sold for, such rooms could be found across the homes of many nobles or other wealthy people across Skyrim.

However if one were to take a closer look one would find that nothing about the rooms contents could ever be described as ordinary by any sane man save for the stands and cases that were used to display them which were made of ordinary wood and glass and some with stuffed cushions on the inside. 

Jon himself was currently slumped next to a crackling hearth with a goblet of wine in his left hand which dangled of the arm of his chair, the chair itself was carved from a dark wood and had padded cushions of purple silk on its base, back and most of its armrests that was carved to imitate snarling wolves at the end while its legs were made to resemble a wolves legs and paws. 

The only clothed part of him was his lower body which was clad in a pair of black breeches meanwhile his upper body was naked save for an intricately embroidered red blanket that hung around his shoulders, the fire of the hearth revealed a muscled torso and stomach littered with scar both small and large, some of whom seemed fatal. His head, hair still wet from the bath, rested on the chairs padded headrest which widened as it stretched upwards, the chair was actually so large that it seemed to dwarf Jon and if one were to look at it from behind the only part of him showing would be his legs which were lazily stretched outwards and his limp naked feet. 

His gaze swept across the room which was lit up only by the light from the crackling fire where he sat in his chair that was turned so its back was pointed towards the right corner of the room. 

Some time passed where the only movement in the room was its lone occupants arm periodically being lifted to his lips so he could sip his goblets contents, but soon he lifted his other arm to hold the item that until now had been cloaked by the dark of the room up to his face and when exposed to the light of the fireplace it was revealed to be a sword but it wasn’t whole, instead only a length the size of Jons forearm was left. The part where it had been broken off was jagged and when he shifted it to turn the other side to face upwards the partial dark outline of a hand could be seen. 

“ _For the darkness has passed and the legend yet grows..._ ” Jons voice was a whisper as he continued to stare at the broken blade in his hands. “Two sides of the same coin you called us,” this time his voice seemed to verberate in his head, after a moment in the still quiet of the room a load yell tore itself from his throat as he suddenly stood up and threw the blade through the air where it embedded itself in the chest of the only wooden mannequin not wearing armor in the room.

He stood still for a moment before leaning his head back and finishing the last of his drink. Just as suddenly as the feelings of rage had filled him did they disappear as he collapsed in the throne-like chair, the goblet slipping from his hand and hitting the carpeted floor with a muted thud, and closing his eyes as he clenched and unclenched his hands on the wolven armrests. 

“How amusing you all must find this,” the room remained silent as his voice echoed across it and the many remnants and mementos of past foes and friends that it contained, a sardonic smile spread across his face as his voice took on a mocking tone “the great Dragonborn undone by a man who probably hadn’t spared him any thought in the past years,” his face took on an almost pained expression as his closed eyes screwed up, “you’re all probably laughing at me from whatever hell you’re currently rotting,” the light from the fire glinted off of the metal of a strange mask where it sat on the head of a bust that was on a pedestal in the center of the room, his voice rose to a yell as he stood up once more and began to stumble towards the rooms door, “Well you can all laugh all you want but it won’t change that I’m the one still alive while you’re all nothing but ash and memories!” As he neared the door he stumbled on the cloth that hung from his shoulders into a pedestal knocking a crown shaped like a pair of wolves holding a sapphire in their mouths to the ground, he ignored the crown and righted himself before continuing towards the door and as he gripped the handle he whispered to himself,

“I’m alive, I won, I defeated all of you, you’re all gone.” He ripped the door open and slammed it shut and as he stumbled through the hallways the sound from door slamming shut echoed through the manor, and in the mind of the Dovahkiin filled with shadows and foggy from drink it sounded akin to countless haunting voices laughing with malice and joy at seeing Skyrims famed hero stumble drunkenly through his home after he had tried to relieve himself of the feelings of dread and conflicted he felt at the thought of the next day.

Jon had made it to the stairs leading to his bedroom but as he neared the top the cloth covering him got snagged under his foot causing him to fall down with a pained yell. He laid still on the stone floor making no attempt to rise up, a defeated look crossed his face before he slipped away from the waking word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Thanks again to acehollyleaf for the helpful comments


End file.
